


Second Coming

by ophelialiddell



Category: Shin Megami Tensei II, Shin Megami Tensei Series, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor, Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne, 真女神転生IV | Shin Megami Tensei IV
Genre: Multi, Spoilers, smt1 hero doesn't get to come to the party because he's canonically neutral, so many spoilers, spoilers for absolutely everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:11:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelialiddell/pseuds/ophelialiddell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The human-born scions of Chaos meet in Makai and await the final battle.  Elsewhere, Raidou debates his alignment, the future confronts devilish children and hackers alike and Aleph breaks free of a cycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a massive SMT crossover featuring chaos protags and my favorite pairings, so I wrote a massive SMT crossover featuring chaos protags and my favorite pairings. Update schedule will be erratic. Perspective shifts will be sudden. Quality is not assured.
> 
> And I don't have an editor, so any typos are apologized for in advance.

Pt. 0- Prelude

 

-

Becoming a Bel had changed very little about him, physically. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected; horns, perhaps, or sharp teeth. A sudden urge towards cursing people and frequenting fiery pits. (Nao- Cain had laughed at him when he’d tentatively brought it up. “Your imagination, brother,” he’d said while smirking, “never fails to disappoint.”) The only palpable changes he’d been able to determine were mental, and aside from the violent sense of power flowing through his skin, barely contained by his human form, it was mainly the growing sense of déjà vu. Although it had never come to the forefront until now he suspected his mind had always held some subconscious knowledge of who and what he truly was. It fueled his relationship with Naoy- Cain, gave him affection for the occult, led him through Tokyo during the worst week of his life. Having access to Babel only confirmed his suspicions. His memories trickled back now and faster every day and he no longer had to wonder if he’d seen or done something before; he could simply use his power to ascertain the answer and know. It was a lonely thing to suddenly have the knowledge of thousands of years of life, and he felt as though he understood Cain better than ever.

Three weeks after the end of the lockdown and two days after he’d reclaimed the memory of what it felt like to have his brother’s blade through his flesh, he cut off all contact with Yuzu and Atsuro. They had been unable to follow him into the dark and he hadn’t expected them to, but they’d tried to maintain some form of contact through emails over the COMP and what little function remained in his cell phone after a journey into the abyss. Messages had been few and fleeting but they’d served to anchor him during the change, remind him of what he was… but now, they were only a distraction. After all, they couldn’t go on as before. He might look like the Kazuya they knew, but inside he was becoming more and more like-

“Abel,” Cain said from somewhere behind him. “We’ve received an interesting message.”

He turned away from the palace wall he’d been contemplating and frowned at his brother. “A message.”

“Oh yes.” Cain reached into an inside pocket on his haori and offered its contents. “See for yourself.” 

It was his COMP, beaten and scratched but still entirely functional, if a bit dusty around the buttons from a lack of use. He’d stashed it away when it became clear that he no longer needed it and wasn’t entirely sure he liked the sense of nostalgia he had now that he was holding it again in his hands. Abel opened the lid cautiously. The mentioned message was already on the screen (Cain was snooping, the part of him he’d tried to quiet, the part that still held a grudge from their past, whispered to him. Of course.), a lonely resident in the inbox he’d cleaned out once it became clear that his past ties would be no good to him now.

_Greetings, King of Bel,_ it began. _I do so hope you’re settling into your new role well._

_Hopefully you haven’t forgotten me. I am Lucifer, and I share your struggle. I too wish to see existence liberated from YHVH’s rule. I believe we can be of some use to each other. I hereby extend an invitation to Makai, in order to better discuss the upcoming battle._

_I eagerly await your response._

Abel looked up at Cain and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Cain simply smiled.

-

Flynn was not made to rule.

It was something of a contradiction, anyway. A world of pure chaos and freedom, governed by a singular entity? Those who flourished in such a world would be unlikely to listen to reason, something which he quickly found himself learning far too well. He lacked the charisma and force of personality of Lucifer- Lucifer, who'd abandoned their Tokyo once the last remnants of the Angels were eradicated, saying he had other things and worlds to attend to with his renewed strength- and the passion of Walter necessarily to take control. Flynn acted, but he acted at the whims of others. Even when he'd chosen his path he'd merely chosen who to follow. He was too powerful to be conquered, but too weak to conquer without others to assist- and wasn't that just a cruel joke? He languished in the new world he'd created. Battle and strife raged around him and he could only watch in detached, frustrated misery.

He missed Jonathan's compassion. He missed Isabeau's even temper. He missed Walter's fire. He missed his friends, his life, controlled as they may have been. Flynn couldn't say for certain that a different world would have been better, but he was willing to grant himself the vulnerability of regret regardless. He sat in his current home, an abandoned building referred to by the locals as an "apartment," and wondered when his vulnerability would develop into full-fledged weakness- a death sentence to be sure- and he'd be free to join his lost companions.

He never voiced these thoughts to Burroughs. The only thing that could possibly make the situation worse was the inevitable condemnation of his only remaining ally, intangible though she may be.

Finally, just when he'd been on the verge of giving up hope completely, a letter had appeared in his living room. 

_Greetings, Flynn,_ it said, and somehow he knew who it was from before he'd even begun the first paragraph.

Lucifer was calling. Flynn forced down the bile that rose in his throat at the audacity of the demon lord. Lucifer would not contact him for a casual chat. He wanted something, as always, and as he scanned the rest of the letter he couldn't stop the twin emotions that built within him.

Anger, that the demon would ask even more of him.

Pathetic gratefulness, at the prospect of having a purpose again.

For a single moment, Flynn hesitated as the two feelings warred within him. The knowledge that he was being used as a pawn versus the desire to obey. A spark of his old determination versus the ice that had settled within him after everything that had happened. Bitterness versus hope. It lasted only a moment, before he spoke up.

"Burroughs," he said quietly. "I am going to Makai to rejoin Lucifer."

He thought he detected a hint of snark in her tone when she responded, "I'll mark that as a quest," but he didn't care as he turned to leave. 

-

His patience, already thin as a human, had become nonexistent as a demon. The Demi-Fiend was committed to Lucifer’s cause- a fact he was forced to remind himself of every day, lest he abandon Makai for greener pastures in a fit of frustration- but when he’d been told he was to lead a battle against God, he’d hoped said battle would occur before the end of time itself.

It was an exaggeration, to be sure. But that was what it felt like. Lucifer’s plan was never quite ready, always needed one more missing piece. Naoki knew on an intellectual level that every moment he spent waiting was a moment Lucifer spent moving more forces to his cause, a moment their chances of winning a seemingly hopeless fight against the fabric of the universe itself increased by a fraction. Besides, time meant very little to him now. Years passed in the blink of an eye and he remained, unchanging, thumbing his nose at the very concepts of mortality and aging that so often stymied other men. That did not mean, however, that inaction didn’t bother him. He had been born, no, created to fight and conquer, and the lack of a driving fight grated in the way nothing else did.  


He was certain his subordinates could feel his frustration. They found excuses to avoid his presence, danced carefully around his moods like they were made of glass. Naoki did everything he could to bleed off the tension, and after fucking half the succubi in Makai and fighting the rest he was fairly certain he was well within his rights to say he'd tried everything he knew. The irritation was here to stay, apparently, much like himself.

Still, he was loyal. And so he waited… and waited… and waited. 

Finally, one day, something changed. There was a weight in the air, a current, like some great beast had awoken from the depths of the universe and was taking its first desperate breath of life. Naoki couldn't explain it, but somehow he _knew._ Something was being set in motion, and he could sense the ripples already forming in the fabric of life itself. The Demi-Fiend smiled.

Perhaps he would be rewarded for his patience after all.

-

_In a distant universe, a child was born with lustrous black hair and old, grey eyes. He smiled at his parents, far too young to yet make sense of the billions of memories that he had fought to grant himself, finally an equal player in an infinite game._

_In the office of a quiet detective agency, a boy-no, a man- waited for his next assignment and found he could not remember the last time he was able to make up his own mind. The knowledge bothered him, but not as much as he felt it should, and his fingers gripped tighter into the fur of the cat sleeping next to him._

_Somewhere, a man regretted the sacrifice of a woman, and children fought to discover themselves._

_This was the prelude to the new path of fate._


	2. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A forward movement begins, if but slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been on my hard drive for the last four months. I haven't gotten it to satisfaction, but it was getting a bit unwieldy so I decided to post what I have. The next bit- whenever it appears- will be more like the next part of the chapter instead of an entirely new one. 
> 
> I haven't quite figured out how to smooth out the perspective shifts yet. Forgive me. I'm not good at writing. I could probably use some help.
> 
> Also, several of Raidou’s rituals and precepts are stolen wholesale from Buddhism. I haven’t read the manga or the novel, which I’m lead to believe show what his life is actually like, so I would appreciate if you would suspend your disbelief if something contradicts them. All characterizations are based on how I played the character in question.

Several of Raidou’s rituals and precepts are stolen wholesale from Buddhism. I haven’t read the manga or the novel, which I’m lead to believe show what his life is actually like, so headcanon is in effect.

-

 

Raidou Kuzunoha had a very strict schedule.

He woke up every morning exactly one hour before sunrise. He didn’t need an alarm; he’d been rising in this manner for so long that his circadian rhythm was naturally tuned to the cycle of the sun. He took five to seven minutes to fully awaken depending on his depth of sleep. He then rose, retrieved his light robe from its place on a hook on the wall and deliberated for six minutes on which topic weighed most heavily on his mind. Was there a new problem in the Capitol? Increased stresses at school? Another run-in with Narumi’s bill collectors? After a precise and careful time of contemplation, he arranged himself on the floor, draped his robe around him and began his meditation. He counted his breaths slowly and ensured that his mind was focused razor-sharp on the rise and fall of each one. With this breath, another demon fell beneath his blade. With this one, Gouto praised him. With another, Narumi would finally learn a sense of responsibility-

Well, perhaps meditation could not work miracles. When he reached three thousand six hundred he opened his eyes and rose, moving slowly and carefully to dress himself in his gakuran. It was the only thing aside from his robe that hung on the clothing-rack inside the room. Narumi had offered to buy him more clothes, and Raidou had politely refused him. Material goods brought greed, which begot lust, which opened doors for more bitter emotions. He possessed his uniforms, for both worldly and otherworldly activities, and they suited him fine. 

After he dressed he opened the shade on his window. Sunlight flooded the formerly dark room and he winced at the intrusion. The sun peered halfway over the horizon. This meant it was time to begin the process of gathering food. Narumi would not wake for several hours; if Raidou waited for him he might not get to eat at all, since he had school and eating after noon was impure. The decision made, Raidou began to move into the kitchen. Gouto always waited patiently in the hallway for him to finish his morning ritual and met him by rubbing against his legs when he opened the door. He greeted Raidou with a cursory “good morning” and flicked his tail primly, letting Raidou lead the way.  
Breakfast was fruit and water, as usual.

After breakfast he would check the mail, straighten up and prepare for school if there was nothing that required his more immediate attention. This was an easy day; Raidou had at least four different after-breakfast schedule additions for various situations. He planned for every occasion. Living in the Capitol demanded it. When he had first begun his post, he had found it difficult to adapt to all the various ways a day could go wrong. After all, his schedule was not something he did consciously. Raidou’s training had been ingrained in him from a young age, his grooming so total that he could barely remember a time in which he did not plan his life around his obligations. He could scarcely imagine what it was like to live as Narumi was wont to, waking when he pleased and doing… whatever it was Narumi did. Eating toast. Gambling. Shopping. Likely working at some point, as despite his constant flailing to stay above the water Narumi had somehow avoided actually falling to the loan sharks. Despite his unpredictable laziness, Narumi clearly did have a good head on his shoulders. He could be helpful when he desired to be. Raidou was at a loss as to why Narumi simply refused to be more often.

Raidou had just finished checking the mail when Gouto stopped at his heels, ears flicking back. “Listen,” he said. “Looks like your boss decided to rise and shine early. Imagine that.” Raidou frowned and concentrated. If he listened just hard enough he could hear the telltale signs of Narumi moving, rather clumsily, towards the living area. Unexpected, but not terribly surprising. Occasionally something moved Narumi off his path of sloth, oftentimes accidentally, and it never seemed to affect much. Raidou quietly counted his boss’s footsteps in his head. Twenty more ‘til he reached the doorframe. A moment to make it through. A second to ask about coffee, another to remember Raidou didn’t drink it, and another to decide to make it himself. Unless Narumi needed something from him specifically, it wasn’t worthy of concern.

“Hey there, Raidou! Fancy you being up this early,” Narumi called- right on time. _I’m always up this early_ , Raidou didn’t say. He simply nodded in greeting and reached down to pick up Gouto, who’d started rolling his eyes when Narumi appeared. “Hello to you too, Gouto!” Narumi quickly added, flashing a winning smile that was completely ruined by his tired, half-lidded eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d have any coffee started, eh Raidou? Oh, that’s right. You don’t drink coffee. Well, that’s fine. I prefer to brew it myself anyway.” He shuffled into the kitchen, yawning as he moved. Raidou hurried to gather up his bag and throw his cloak over his shoulders while Narumi’s back was turned. “I was tossing and turning all night long. Sleepless nights, you know? Ah, well. I guess youth doesn’t have those problems. When you get to be-”

Interrupting was rude, but Narumi wasn’t the type to be insulted by such things. Raidou decided to risk it. “Excuse me, but I need to leave for school.” His voice, though quiet from disuse, was generally somber enough to cut through the din. Narumi waved a hand without turning around.

“Sure, right. That’s fine, then. Hey, pick up some more bread on the way back, will you?” 

Raidou nodded, and though Narumi couldn’t possibly have seen it he seemed to know Raidou’d done it anyway.  
Perhaps Narumi was picking up a few tricks about living with him, too.

Narumi had once told him that he had an “old soul” to be living like an elderly monk at the young age of seventeen. Perhaps. But there was something pleasant about stability, something reassuring about knowing the proper way of things. There was just so much uncertainty in the world; he knew that better than anybody. At any moment things could go wrong- a demon could attack, a human could begin to plot, an unpredictable disaster could arise. When that happened, one could only hope to survive by clinging to what they knew like a life raft and becoming a rock for others to ground themselves upon. It wasn’t _fulfilling_ , but it was _right_.

And Raidou was happy.  
(Or so he thought.)

*  
There was something oddly beautiful about the crack of broken bones. 

It was a very visceral sound. It was unbelievably satisfying to hit an opponent in the proper place and hear the loud crack echo through the air, see them wince in pain as an essential part of their anatomy fractured beneath one’s fist. Naoki stared down at his latest victim, who was hunkered down away from him and staring at him with wary eyes. Ogres were too weak to be anything but punching bags, but too humanlike to go unnoticed. They were the perfect targets for his frustration.

All around them demons cheered and chanted. They’d formed the fight-circle about an hour ago, and the infamous Demi-Fiend had already torn through most challengers. It wasn’t uncommon to find demons splintered off into their own little groups, testing their strength in an arena where they could go as wild as they wanted and the consequences were only a Diarahan or Recarm away from being fixed. Lucifer permitted it so long as nobody started slaughtering their opponents literally as opposed to metaphorically. They might be demons, but they knew better than to kill their allies when there was no benefit to themselves. 

The ogre muttered a very sullen, “I yield.” The cheers grew even louder as a few of the ogre’s buddies helped him off to the side. No one had expected a no-name ogre to come out on top against Lucifer’s best general. Everyone had expected the gory spectacle, however, and they were not disappointed. Naoki flicked some of the blood off his fingers disinterestedly. Some still considered his “human heart” to be a weakness and he suspected most of the challengers stupid enough to come forth were testing to see just how human he really was.

The joke was on them. He’d become more fiend than man the moment he’d watched the death of almost everyone he ever knew, even before he’d been properly turned.

Suddenly something prickled at the corner of his senses. There was some- some _power_ , some _person_ , hovering just out of sight. It wasn’t Lucifer. It wasn’t anything he’d felt before. His hackles raised and he felt his hands curl into fists. He wanted to know it. He wanted to fight it. He wanted to kill it-

Naoki bit down the urge. 

The thing’s power was calling to his own. It reached out to Lucifer’s gift, to the Magatama, to his own demonic desire to crush and consume. It was like a war drum, demanding he fall into line or fight back. And it wasn’t just him- a change had fallen over the fight circle, drowning all nearby under its spell. Silence reigned.

And then, just like that, the spell was broken. “So this is the power of the throne of Bel, even in a world that is not our own. Fascinating, isn’t it, brother?”

There. The Demi-Fiend’s gaze honed in on the source of the voice like a laser sight. Two humans(?!), just within sight, watching the demonic revelry with great interest. The smaller one- ah, there was the source of the power. A tiny boy with ridiculous headphones in a black cape, practically drowning underneath the dark fabric. It would have been laughable if he didn’t make eye contact, leveling Naoki’s gaze with a calm, self-assured glint in his eyes. At his flank was a smirking man with red eyes, one hand placed all-too-casually on his companion’s shoulder. If the caped man was ill-fitted to his aura, the smirking man more than made up for it. By contrast, however, he seemed to have no aura at all. It was as if his resonance was perfectly tuned to his surroundings, harmonized to a degree that couldn’t possibly be natural. Naoki mentally revised his assessment. One blank, one… something else.

Fascinating indeed. Fascinating and _irritating_.

After reaching for various responses, what Naoki settled on was, “Get out.”

“Oh? How rude. Didn’t Lucifer teach you to respect your betters, fiend?” the smirking man said.

“My _betters_?” the Demi-Fiend snarled. 

“Oh, yes. You’re in the presence of a king, after all. He should show more respect, don’t you think, Abel?”

The man could not possibly have been speaking of himself. Naoki had encountered many egotistical, misguided fools in his day, and while the man fit many of the criteria he didn’t have any power to back it up. He returned his gaze to the smaller man. _King. Abel._

_…A Bel._

_…The King of Bel?!_

The Demi-Fiend’s eyes narrowed and the smirking man added, “Oh ho, so you do recognize us. How auspicious. Am I to assume that Lucifer has spoken of us?” Lucifer had spoken of them, in fact. The newborn King of Bel, a potential ally with shared goals, and his brother from ages past, who pulled all the strings. A unique arrangement to be sure and one Lucifer had seemed interested in pursuing, at least temporarily. Someone he probably shouldn’t kill, then. 

However, this knowledge changed things. Naoki no longer felt off-balance. This Bel was not his king, and remembering that lifted some of the frustration from his mind. He rolled his shoulders and watched the Bel’s eyes trace the pattern of his markings as his muscles shifted, though the young man remained silent. _You’re not the only one with power, “Abel,”_ the Demi-Fiend thought, grinning. “He might have mentioned you once or twice,” he said, and shrugged as if was worth barely a thought. “I don’t pay much attention to tales of glory. They’re never all they’re cracked up to be, and a lot of them have ended with me.”

“Likewise,” the Bel’s companion sneered.

“Don’t make me laugh. First a murderer, now a glory hound? All you’ve done is ride on other people’s coattails.” The brother, Cain, didn’t show much obvious reaction, but the light in his eyes darkened somewhat. Naoki’s grin widened. He didn’t know the full story but apparently he knew enough. The predator in him screamed in victory over finding a chink in his enemy’s armor. The Bel watched the two of them warily and Naoki could feel the power that coiled around his being, roiling about him like the waves of some great ocean. _Intoxicating_. Maybe if he pressed the brother a little more he could bait Abel into-

“Enough, the two of you,” Abel interrupted. “Cain, we’re not here to cause trouble in Makai- I’ve already had to fight Lucifer once and I don’t plan to do it again.” His brother nodded, reluctantly, and fell a step behind him. (The Demi-Fiend idly wondered if becoming a leashed hound had been part of the grand plan, or if it was an unfortunate byproduct of falling in with someone more powerful than oneself. If it was the latter, he knew the feeling.) After a moment, Abel continued, “If you know who we are, you know why we’re here. If negotiations with Lucifer go well then we’ll be allies. If you tell us where he is, we’ll be on our way. I’d rather not fight. ”

Naoki rolled his eyes. “Fine. Be boring. He’s in the big-ass castle you can see from pretty much anywhere. I’m sure you could have figured that out on your own, though.”

“Perhaps. Thank you anyway.”

“Hnh.”

Abel turned to leave. Before departing, however, he hesitated and then looked back, making eye contact with Naoki. “Once,” he murmured, “I knew someone a lot like you. He was always spoiling for a fight. We were friends, though, and he had a good heart underneath all the bluster. If you’re anything like him, I think we’ll get along fine.” A look passed between Abel and Cain and Cain shrugged, then they walked off towards the castle together. Once they were gone, the quiet lifted from the fight circle. Demons muttered amongst themselves and glanced about, tension bleeding off the crowd in waves. The Demi-Fiend wasn’t sure if he’d come off well or not in the encounter, but he wasn’t about to give his underlings time to think about it. 

“Alright, you weaklings!” he bellowed. “Show’s over! Get in the ring, **I want blood**!”

*  
“Cain,” Abel said once they were out of earshot. “Please stop provoking people.”

“Hm? I’d say I was the one being provoked in that situation.”

Abel just shook his head. He didn’t necessarily _mind_ Cain speaking for him. Contrary to popular belief he was, in fact, capable of existing without being pulled about like a puppet on a string, but there was something nice about being able to blend in to the background and observe while someone else made all the effort… if only so that the enemy was more surprised to find that the puppet had a set of moves all their own. Cain planned, he acted. It had worked for them so far and he wasn’t about to mess with success.

He just wished _Cain_ would stop messing with success. It would be easier to make friends and influence people if his brother’s issues and need to one-up everyone would stop getting in the way. His brother had managed to circumvent every obstacle so far, but that was no reason to invite more.

“He wasn’t exactly being polite,” Abel conceded, “but you weren’t helping. Next time, let me handle it.”

“Of course.”

He didn’t exactly sound sincere, but at least it was something. Abel sighed. 

They were getting closer to the castle. _It would have been nice to get an escort_ , he thought. Then again, things weren’t in any kind of organized state that would have allowed one. The reports he’d gotten from his demons were mixed- different names for different areas, different numbers of areas, rulers and fiefdoms and all sorts of things- and he’d really had no idea what to expect. Now that he was here it was even worse. Everyone was on edge. The towns they’d walked through to try to reach Lucifer’s castle had tension bleeding off them in waves, and Abel was certain that only part of it had been his controlling aura. They were steeling themselves for something, preparing to batten down the hatches and bear the wave or otherwise be swept away within the tide. The last time he’d felt the bowstring of existence strung so tight was- well. Judgement day.

There was a difference, however. The people trapped within the lockdown had been panicking, desperate. This was _knowing_. These were demons readying for war, not humans set adrift. Abel briefly wondered just how long preparations had been going on. How long had these creatures been living on the edge? How much longer could they last?

Abel shook his head and walked on.

-

Sometimes when he slept he dreamed of a gleaming city ruled by angels.

Other times he saw a giant cylinder that called to him and promised him the power of its halls and corridors.

Occasionally there was just darkness and the sense of falling, and then the pain of death.

His neighbor when he was seven was a girl with long brown hair who always wore a cross necklace. She wasn’t too religious, she’d said, but wearing it felt right and she liked the design. Every time he saw her he felt a pain of longing and afterimages flashed against his eyes when he blinked, the visage of someone he’d never met scorched behind his eyelids. She’d had to move away with her parents three days before his eighth birthday, and he’d screamed and cried and begged her to stay. It hadn’t worked.

Somehow, he didn’t think this was the first time they’d been separated.

It was worse than deja vu. Once he saw a statue of a man with a laurel wreath about his head and spent the rest of the day in convulsions, screaming at anyone that came near him that _it was all a lie_! As he grew older and the episodes didn’t stop his parents took him to the best psychiatrists their meager income could afford. No matter how many times he was diagnosed- schizophrenia was most common- or how many medications he was given, nothing seemed to work. As he aged, however, the symptoms began to fade and his parents- too relieved to question- decided that their child had been healed through the grace of God.

In truth, nothing had changed. He’d simply gotten better at controlling it. Now when he flashed back to something that he was increasingly sure had happened in a past life, he gritted his teeth and tried to remember the now, remember the reality of the moment. Stay grounded. Stay in control. He sat in the back of his classes and tried not to catch anyone’s eye, or say anything odd. Sometimes he doodled little monsters in the margins of his notebook and erased the ones that looked too real. 

(He didn’t have any friends. He was okay with that.)

The worst thing, however, was the name. He knew on some level that he’d had many. What they called him now was inconsequential, just as inconsequential as all the rest had ended up being. One name, however, he clung to. He wrote it on his notebook and in the cover of his textbook, scrawled it in the dust on his bookshelf and the dirt in the schoolyard when he was dragged outside with his class. It was the one solid memory out of all the ones that clogged his head. One single name.

_Aleph. ___

__*_ _


End file.
